


in your dreams I will stand

by authoressjean



Series: the changed future [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I angst because I care, M/M, PTSD, some slightly descriptive imagery of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "to change the course of the future", pre "I will shelter you from the storm".</p>
<p>He's slept uneasy since the Ring, but Bilbo's nightmares have only started.</p>
<p>It's only after they've reached the waking world that he realizes he never quite told Thorin and the others everything that happened on his journey. Including being taken captive by a band of orcs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in your dreams I will stand

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Dans vos rêves je me tiendrai](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386279) by [Julie290](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie290/pseuds/Julie290)



> This fic has fought me since I started writing it several weeks ago. Still not certain I'm thrilled with it, but I'm not adding anything to it, and it's just a quick spot of angst, anyway, to elaborate on a smaller point I made in the very last part of the very last chapter of 'to change', regarding Bilbo having nightmares. This happens after the main fic, however.
> 
> My muse is already on to greener fields of angst. Apologies in advance: there is going to be nothing BUT angst for a bit. This has some fluff in it, but not a lot.
> 
> This happens before Thorin and Bilbo have been married. They're still in Erebor.

It was going to work. His plan had to work. He knew that the one thing the orcs would do was turn on each other. He’d gotten it to work before, and he could do it again.

Still, that didn’t mean that he wanted the orc anywhere near him, which was exactly what this plan was going to entail. But if it meant getting free, he’d do it.

He barely registered what he was saying. Meat, juicy meat, and he sounded like Gollum, and that was _not_ what he wanted to think about, not when he had to deal with orcs. The orc was getting closer, and its teeth shone in the dim light. They were dark and grimy and he recoiled on instinct. Was he still talking? He didn’t know.

The orc was close enough: he could do it now. He called out for help, for the other orc to appear and hold to its word. He braced himself for the possible fight that would break out between them.

The other orc didn’t appear. And suddenly, he was alone with a hungry orc whom he’d provoked into biting him.

Teeth sank into his neck and he screamed as they tore into his throat. He could taste blood, his blood, welling up in his throat as the orc tore flesh from him. Harsh hands held him still when he tried to kick, to get away, and he was choking on his own blood as the orc took a massive bite from his neck. He couldn’t breathe, his throat was torn open, and the taste of blood was everywhere, and he kept trying to scream for help, and if he could _just breathe_ -

He finally pulled in a deep gulp of air and let it out in a scream that finally, _finally_ was loud and echoed everywhere. He could hear the footsteps of the orcs now, racing to him, sparing him from the fate he’d brought on himself, and he found his hand free, free enough to pull the orc away from his neck-

The orc that wasn’t there. He choked on his next breath, stunned, even as arms grabbed him from behind. He flailed in the grasp, feeling weak and disoriented, keening and trying to get away.

Sound finally filtered in, and it was like a sudden pop in his ears. “-bo, _Bilbo_ , you’re safe, I’m here, _you’re safe_ -“

Even as memory began to overwhelm the dream, even as Bilbo registered that Thorin had come to him and was on the bed, shielding him, the door to his quarters burst open. Bilbo started on the bed, clutching at Thorin, then paused. Two wild sets of eyes stared back at him, and Bilbo found himself wildly wondering if perhaps dwarves _did_ groom, because Kili’s hair had never looked so much like a bird’s nest before. And how Fili had managed to grab both of his swords and his belt but not his trousers or tunic, Bilbo didn’t know.

Not two moments later, Dernwyn and Legolas were right behind Fili and Kili, their own weapons drawn. “Where?” Fili demanded. “Bilbo, where?”

Somehow, the sight of all four, dressed in their sleep clothes but ready and willing to defend him, was what did him in. He buried his face in his hands, biting his lip to keep the sobs back.

Hands caught his hitching shoulders and pulled him in against warm skin. Bilbo clutched at Thorin’s arms and turned his head into his betrothed’s bare chest, dampening the skin with his tears. A kind, familiar hand gently brushed down Bilbo’s back, the touch warm even through Bilbo’s night clothes. He almost wished he’d done without them, now, but he still couldn’t, not even after all this time, not with the scars underneath.

He swore he felt teeth biting through his jugular, and Bilbo shuddered. Thorin only pulled him in closer, a shield made of flesh and bone and love. It felt as if the dwarf was curled all around him, cradling Bilbo, keeping him safe. He felt the tension leave him and he sank into the embrace.

It was just a dream. The orcs had done as Bilbo had planned, and he’d escaped with only bruises and scrapes from the imposed march across Mordor. The Ring was gone, Thorin was by his side, and they were going to be married in the Shire. His pin was right by his tableside, Sting not far from that. He was in Erebor. He was _safe_ , and if he could honestly have one night not riddled with fear and uneasiness…

“Sure there’s nothing we can’t kill for you?”

The hesitant but almost disappointed question drew a sharp laugh from Bilbo. Kili was looking longingly at his bow, as if hoping Bilbo would point him in a random offender’s direction. It left Bilbo feeling even more relaxed.

“Not now, no,” Bilbo said, and wasn’t surprised at how hoarse his voice was. Thorin still tightened his grip all the same. “I reckon the orcs all tumbled with Sauron. At least, the ones in Mordor did.”

“The ones chasing you?” Fili asked. After a surprised moment, Bilbo nodded. “We took care of them. Every single one of them.”

There was a relief from those simple words, a relief Bilbo hadn’t been expecting. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling exhausted but so much better than he had before. “Thank you,” Bilbo whispered.

“You’re lucky you got ahead of them,” Kili said. His bow was slung on his back again, though Bilbo was certain it had been done reluctantly. “They were quick on the rocks.”

“I was lucky to get away in the first place,” Bilbo muttered. He almost hadn’t. If the bigger orc had been just a few seconds later in answering Bilbo’s cry, his throat _would_ have been torn out. He touched a hand to his neck, just to reassure himself that all the skin was there, and that he was fine.

“’Get away’?”

Bilbo glanced up at Thorin, surprised at the low tone. Thorin was staring at him with an unreadable gaze, but when Bilbo glanced to the others, there were wide eyes filled with fear.

Oh. He hadn’t told them.

“Is there something you forgot to tell us the first time?” Thorin asked softly, but his hands were tight around Bilbo. Not caging him, but protecting him, desperate to keep him safe.

Bilbo sighed. “…Perhaps. Not intentionally. I just…” Hadn’t wanted to think of it. Of how close he’d truly come to death. The pain, the abuse, the fear pounding in his heart-

“Bilbo?”

Legolas’s gentle, worried voice left Bilbo shaking himself from his thoughts. They were all gazing at him, still worried, and Thorin was tense beside him. Bilbo was certain he would’ve felt his cheeks warm at the attention if he hadn’t been so tired.

Dernwyn stepped forward, her blade by her side. “Maybe some tea would help us all,” she offered softly, and Bilbo gave her a grateful smile.

“Tea sounds lovely.” And would perhaps settle his nerves that were twisting his stomach into knots.

Because he hadn’t realized he’d left parts of his story out when he’d told them of his adventure. And now, the thought of telling those parts was high on his list of things he didn’t want to do.

 

The kitchens downstairs were manned, at this time in the morning, by a lone dwarf who needed no further encouragement to leave than the king waving him out. Bilbo took to the kettle to fill it with water while Fili stoked the fire. After the third time Bilbo tried to fill the kettle without spilling and failed, Legolas took over and nudged him gently on towards the table.

After the _first_ time he stumbled on his way to the table, Thorin caught him around the waist and guided him to sit at the table beside the king. Bilbo let out a sigh and rubbed at his weary eyes. What he wouldn’t do for sleep…

Once the tea was done and distributed around the table, everyone sipped and didn’t really speak. Kili found a box of biscuits, and Bilbo gratefully took one and munched on it to keep from speaking. It wasn’t going to last long, his silence, the others wouldn’t let him, but for the moment, the light treat was helping his nerves and his stomach.

He managed to steal three more biscuits before Thorin ‘conveniently’ moved the box over towards Kili and well out of Bilbo’s reach. “Unfair,” Bilbo muttered under his breath, and Legolas gave a quick grin from across the table. He’d almost forgotten about Elven hearing.

He’d not quite forgotten about the tenaciousness of dwarves, however. “What happened?” Thorin asked, skipping platitudes and the subtle wind-up. It was actually reassuring, in its directness, leaving Bilbo no choice but to go straight into the story.

So he did. He spoke about walking across Mordor and tumbling down the hill in exhaustion. The orcs finding him and capturing him. The long walk as they’d marched towards the post near Mount Doom. Waking up, hanging in chains, tricking the orcs so he could escape. The desperate run towards Mount Doom.

He tried to gloss over the abuse he’d taken while they’d marched, but Thorin caught hold of his hesitance and quietly, but firmly, demanded all of the story. After that, well. Bilbo didn’t have much choice, and he told them about being shoved and beaten, dragged and knocked unconscious more times than he could remember.

He took another sip of his tea, eyes locked on the table. Looking at anyone right now just wasn’t going to happen. No one had spoken a word since Thorin’s interruption, and the kitchen was silent, save for the gentle crackle of the fire. “After I woke up in the tower, there wasn’t really  much more, well, hurt. But I…I gambled with my life to get the orcs away from me. The orc was so close I could feel its breath, and if the other orc hadn’t come at my cry…” He swallowed and ran a trembling finger along the rim of his tea cup. 

Kili was the first to speak, in the complete silence that followed Bilbo’s trailed off words. “That’s what you dreamed about: the orc biting you, eating you.”

Bilbo could only nod. Silence reigned supreme again.

A hand settled over his, and when Bilbo looked up, Legolas was leaning over the table to reach him. “Even if the orc itself was not dead, you would be safe here,” the elf said. “We would rather die than let anything touch you or hurt you.”

Though Bilbo had not known the elf truly until after the Ring had been destroyed, he had found a fast friend in Legolas. He was calm and quick to kindness, and his devotion to Kili left a smile on everyone’s face. Both Bilbo and Legolas spoke often of the woods and the love they shared in common for all that was green and living, and Bilbo felt peace when he shared words with the elf.

It was that peace now that was slowly settling in Bilbo’s soul. “Thank you,” he said, and wasn’t at all surprised to hear his voice clog with emotion. Legolas nodded, a swift promise.

Dernwyn also leaned forward, and Fili and Kili twisted to reach and catch Bilbo’s hand with theirs. Murmurs of promises and oaths were made, and even if Bilbo hadn’t heard them, he’d only needed to look at their faces to know. Safety. They promised him safety. It made tears burn in his eyes, and he managed a smile.

As one the four settled back, and Bilbo only realized why when Thorin pulled him in close. His hands slid up to cup Bilbo’s face, and they managed to cover his neck as well. Blocking any attack, physically or mentally, and Bilbo leaned into the hands.

Thorin’s own eyes were wet, and he had to set his jaw into an almost angry expression before he could speak. “I had hoped you were safe,” he said, his voice wrecked. “The worst fate I could think to befall you would be you in the hands of the orcs, and when I found you on Mount Doom, I had thought you to be safe. Hurt, but safe. And now I know that you met the worst fate I could imagine, and I didn’t know.”

“But I’m here,” Bilbo insisted, and he was. He was a thousand miles away from Mordor, and even further still from the nightmare he’d been captive to. “I’m here, Thorin.”

Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo’s, and if he pressed a little harder than he usually did, it wasn’t a point Bilbo was about to bring up. “I wish I could have saved you from it,” Thorin murmured. “If I had been there a few days earlier-“

“Then you might not have found me at all, because I wasn’t at Mount Doom.” Though the thought of Thorin finding him a captive of the orcs, sweeping in so magnificently and saving him, was a nice thought indeed. “You found me, and you saved me. I’m just glad that I caught up with you so you could do so,” he added with a cheeky grin that didn’t feel quite too forced.

“You could’ve ruined the whole thing; we would’ve swept in on eagles, looking majestic and heroic, and you would’ve been late,” Kili said, catching onto the words with a grin of his own.

“A Baggins is _never_ late,” Bilbo volleyed back. “I was right on time, as usual.”

Thorin choked out a laugh at last and pressed a kiss to the tip of Bilbo’s nose. “It was I who was late,” he said. “Days and weeks far too late. I should have gone with you.”

“You did,” Bilbo said, the reply instant and familiar. Thorin _had_ been there, in a sense. So had his mother. He never would’ve made it as far as he did without them, and he would hold to that until his dying day.

Thorin, as usual, was content to let the point go. It left Bilbo wondering, sometimes, if Thorin thought he was cracked. If Thorin really wanted to marry a mad hobbit who hallucinated visions of those he missed. And if he did, how he could possibly love Bilbo as much as he did.

Bilbo pushed the thoughts away immediately. Another day. He would deal with those thoughts another day and another time.

One by one they departed from the kitchen, leaving empty cups and biscuit crumbs. At last it was only Bilbo and Thorin, Legolas having just left them with a nod and a smile. Bilbo realized quite suddenly that if he ever needed help, all he’d ever need to do was call for it, and they would come. There were people he could cry out to now, and they would be there.

He let out a long yawn and sank back into his favorite seat: Thorin. He was half in the dwarf’s lap, his forehead pressed against Thorin’s throat. He huffed out a soft breath and curled in closer, eyes already drooping shut. He needed to get up, he knew that, and needed to get to bed. He’d just rest another moment. The feel of Thorin’s breaths against him, the rise and fall of his chest, was a calming lullaby, and Bilbo was helpless against its pull.

When he blinked again, tired and swollen eyes fighting to open, the stone halls were moving in a slow and steady manner. He felt as if he were floating, but there were strong arms around him, carrying him, and they were never going to let him fall. He closed his eyes again and slept on.

 

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised to have the same dream again in the same night. Speaking of it had obviously done no good. If anything, it had just made it more vivid.

The dark, sharp teeth catching the light before sinking into his skin. Each one was its own source of pain, and the blood that sluiced down his skin was sickeningly warm. Its fingers bruised his skin, digging in so tightly he couldn’t feel. His throat convulsed, desperately trying to pull in air as he choked and choked on blood.

Then he was suddenly jarred, jumping as he was turned around in the soft sheets of his bed. Thorin hovered above him, eyes wide and terrified, and the brush of his hanging hair was a comfort against Bilbo’s skin. His hands were a firm presence wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulders, but they were reassuring, not caging.

“M’fine,” Bilbo managed before Thorin even asked the question. “I didn’t scream, did I?”

“No, but you fought as if your life depended on it,” Thorin said, still breathing as heavily as Bilbo did. “Bilbo-“

“I’m fine,” he said, a tad more urgently now. Couldn’t he get one night’s sleep? His nights had been riddled with uneasiness with so long, and now for his fears to violently appear and affect his waking world… it was almost more than he could bear.

Especially with Thorin giving him a hard look of disbelief. “You are _not_ fine,” Thorin said firmly. “When I came in to check on you, you twisted and turned-“

“Couldn’t find a comfortable spot,” Bilbo quipped, but it only earned him a harder stare.

“-you twisted and turned as if you couldn’t get free, and the look on your face…I never want to see you look that way again. _Ever_.”

It was hard to say anything to that when Thorin’s own face had fallen from the firm glare to the despairing plea. It was a look that Bilbo could’ve lived his whole life without seeing again, too. He opened his mouth to speak again.

“Do not argue with me on this,” Thorin cut him off. “You are absolutely not fine. If there was ever a way to describe not being fine-“

“Thorin, you’re rambling like Kili,” Bilbo said gently, and Thorin pursed his lips together to keep from continuing. “Truly, I’ll be all right.”

“But you’re not now,” Thorin replied, and somehow managed to hold himself upright in order to brush sweaty locks of hair from Bilbo’s face. “And that is my concern.”

Why it was Thorin’s concern, some days Bilbo still didn’t understand. There were days that he looked and saw nothing but love coming from Thorin, and he cherished it and held it close, believing it to be all his. Believing he deserved it.

Then there were the days where he sat and wondered if it was really love in Thorin’s eyes, or if it was some pretense from pity.

Thorin brushed his thumb over Bilbo’s ear, pulling him back to the present. “You need to sleep, so you can be rested on our journey to the Shire.”

“There are days I wonder why you’re so eager to get to the Shire when you’ve just gotten Erebor back,” Bilbo said. Every single nerve in his body now was focused on Thorin’s hand, his callused fingers brushing oh so gently across Bilbo’s skin. “W-We could just have the wedding here.” It was terrible, what he was doing, because Thorin _knew_ that Bilbo loved the feel of his hands. It would distract him from anything; he supposed he ought to be lucky Thorin only used his treacherous powers on a limited basis.

“I promised to wed you beneath the heart’s tree,” Thorin swore. “And that is where I will marry you. Besides, you need to ensure that your cousins have taken proper ownership of Bag-End.”

And hadn’t _that_ letter been a surprise: Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, contesting Primula and Drogo’s right to Bag-End, even after the first letter Bilbo had sent to the Thain. He’d sent the second one only to confirm what the first had said. So far, he hadn’t heard a response back. “I hope it’ll be dealt with and taken care of by the time we arrive,” Bilbo said. “But that’s a worry for another day. And speaking of day, you need sleep: you’ve got the forming of the Council to worry about tomorrow.”

“I’ll sleep when you sleep,” Thorin said, ever the stubborn one. His fingers brushed against Bilbo’s ear again. “I want you to be well rested.”

“Well, I can’t!” Bilbo exclaimed so suddenly that he startled the both of them. He sat up and away from Thorin’s warm embrace and gentle touch, and he immediately felt the loss of both. “I can’t sleep! I’ve tried, and every night I feel so uneasy-“

“Every night? Why didn’t you tell me?” Thorin demanded, but Bilbo pushed his arm away when the king reached for him.

“-and it’s more than just memories, Thorin, I…I feel as if any moment, I’ll wake and _this_ will be the dream, that I’ll still be in Mordor, that I’ll be trying to sleep through the heat and the rocks, that you’ll only be a hallucination, that I’m not…I’m not a room away from you and your touch. That’s you’re not really here.” His voice had trailed off into a whisper, and Bilbo wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly chilled. He felt the scars on his hand press against his skin, and he shuddered for a different reason. “It’s just how I feel,” Bilbo finished, his voice barely a breath. “And there’s truly nothing anyone can do. I’ve tried sleeping teas and fresh lavender and everything, and it doesn’t, it doesn’t help.”

“I wish you’d told me sooner,” Thorin said regretfully. “Bilbo, if you’d told me-“

“What would you do?” Bilbo said, not unkindly. He finally turned to look at Thorin, and the dwarf looked as lost as Bilbo had expected. “Thorin, what would you do?”

Thorin didn’t answer. Bilbo huddled into himself on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands against his arms.

“I would stay with you.”

Bilbo spun around. Thorin had that determined look on his face that Bilbo knew so well. “What?” he asked.

“I would stay with you,” Thorin continued, reaching carefully for Bilbo. Bilbo let himself be drawn back against Thorin, and just the touch left him feeling warmer. “I wouldn’t let you face this alone. Not when I can protect you with my presence.”

“Your touch,” Bilbo said softly. Thorin blinked.

“My touch?”

“It’s…it’s soothing. Safe. I know you use it to tease, but…it really makes a difference. I feel safer, when I’m with you.”

Thorin’s hand wound through Bilbo’s hair, fingertips brushing across Bilbo’s scalp, eliciting a shiver. “That’s…reassuring,” Thorin murmured. “More than I had hoped for.”

The thought of Thorin not being sure of how Bilbo felt didn’t settle right, and Bilbo leaned more into Thorin’s embrace. The terror of the nightmare, the fear of the orcs, it was gone as soon as he was in Thorin’s arms. A whole horde of orcs could smash down his door and Bilbo wouldn’t have so much as cried out in fear. He was safe here, in the loving embrace of his king.

He still didn’t know _why_ Thorin clung to him so much. Why he’d returned to find arms open and offering such love that Bilbo nearly didn’t know what to do with it. But he was going to take it, the selfish burglar that he was, and keep it all for himself.

He found himself being laid down on his side, back into cool sheets that felt good against his skin. Thorin laid across from him, crystal blue eyes watching him so intensely that Bilbo almost lost his voice. He cleared his throat. “Will you…will you stay?” he asked.

In answer, Thorin curled his arm and pulled Bilbo in even more. This close, Bilbo caught the scent of stone and iron, the soap Bilbo had made and the unique scent that was all Thorin. It felt like home, and Bilbo found his eyes slowly drifting shut.

A hand reached up to rest on Bilbo’s cheek, large fingers spreading out to cover his neck. Keeping him safe, even in the night, in the safety of the room.

When sleep came, it wasn’t dreamless, but filled with orcs that came towards him to catch him. He stood still, not moving, just waiting. He didn’t feel any sort of fear.

A dwarf in bright, shining, golden armor came through with a roar, cutting off the orcs and slicing through them, one by one. Not a single orc passed him, and all of them shied away when the sun lit up the armor like a flame. The smell of stone and Thorin pervaded even his dreams, and for the first time, Bilbo slept deeply.

And when he woke, Thorin was still there, arms wrapped around Bilbo, hand resting across his cheek and neck. If this was how their marriage was to be, waking up next to his dwarf forever…

Well. Bilbo was starting to feel the pull to reach the Shire as quickly as possible, too.


End file.
